The Girl Not Spoken Of
by evizyt
Summary: Who was she-the girl that stole the heart of Sirius Black?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sirius/OC. Why he is that he is. This is an old fic, embellished and changed so that it's actually readable. I promise I am working on other stuff too...kind of... really...

**The Girl Not Spoken Of**

The painful air, dour expression, and bored countenance hung around Sirius Black like a mantle, as he walked slowly through the dusty corridors of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He wished fervently for the second time that hour that he was not here.

Anywhere but here.

He had hated this house, he had run away from this house, only to be trapped here once more.

His mood became even more sour, (if possible,) and his facial expression traced the tiny lines beginning to form between his eyebrows and around his mouth, as he settled into a deep scowl. A dark cloud of foreboding and misery, he angrily swept through the hallway, finally coming to rest in the kitchen.

It was the middle of the day--all the order members were out. The kitchen was silent, lit only by one grimy window. He amused himself for a few minutes by idly watching the dust motes, illuminated by the single column of light. Molly Weasley would throw a fit if she knew that the kitchen, her sanctuary, was in fact home to as much bacteria, if not more, than the rest of the filthy rooms in this disgusting house. He even smirked at the thought, with it only to be replaced again by a thunderous frown.

Molly Weasley… Bored and grumpy, his eyes turned of their own accord to the single adornment in the otherwise barren room.

A tarnished and brassy frame, with the glass chipped in two corners, it held an old, black and white, muggle photograph of the Weasley's youngest daughter. She was smiling, her eyes reaching out of the photo, a simple invitation to look at her again, harder, longer.

The simple smile, the reaching, the invitation, all filled Sirius with a yearning. He had known a girl like her once--the type of girl who you could never decide whether she was pretty or not, because she was never still enough to let you look, really _look,_ at her.

Ever like this one, captured on paper in a moment in time, both girls had jumped off the page. The bright vivacity of their eyes, the enchantment of the smile, all drew you away from features and symmetry and nonsense and had you focus instead on how she _gleamed_, from a light source that seemed both internal and as if something was shining down upon her.

His mind turned inwards, seeing another girl, whose bright eyes seemed to glow with a molten warmth, with a silvery laugh that could chase you down corridors.

&

Rich mahogany hair gleamed as it was lifted off the back of her neck and shaken in the sunlight, then allowed to cascade back over her shoulders in luscious waves. With a delighted sigh, emitted from lips which naturally curved upwards from smiling, the girl stretched her arms out and yawned, revealing perfect white teeth. She seemed to almost bubble over with life, laughter, and love, even just sitting quietly in lessons. Marie effortlessly dominated the room, without seeming or even wanting too, and there were very few students, both male and female, whose eyes were not magnetically drawn towards her.

Sirius glared, with a haughty arrogance that only a seventeen year old can muster. He honestly couldn't see what the fuss was. She wasn't even that pretty—just normal, an average girl. Brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin, straight nose. But there was something there he couldn't quite place. He couldn't really satisfactorily decide whether she was pretty or not. It was very frustrating, and so he decided to engage in more interesting past times and hit Prongs over the head with a book.

"You were drooling," he said, casting a meaningful glance at Lily Evans, sitting a few seats away. At that moment she turned towards her best friend, and quickly whispered something in her ear. Marie whipped around, staring straight at Sirius, who had chosen that moment to continue glaring at the back of her head. Blushing at being caught in the act, he turned moodily away, leaning his chair back against the wall and putting his hands behind his neck. Annoying females. It was a perfect time for a nap, anyways, all sunny and warm.

"Ahem, Mr. Black," called Professor Flitwick, breaking in to his reverie. "If you would rejoin the rest of the class, please." Several students sniggered. Sirius shot them an icy glare. He caught a glance of Marie covering a smile with her hand. He had had enough of the brainless Hogwarts population of bimbos. It was enough to make him stomp out of the classroom the moment the bell rang, heedless of his friends' shouts to wait up.

Prongs was first to catch up. "Padfoot, what's going on?"

"Nothing," said Sirius grumpily, at the same time as Peter (slightly breathlessly) said "women." "Jesus, how does he do that!?" he snapped irritably.

"What, always know the right answer?" Moony had arrived.

"No, always say it at the wrong time," Sirius quipped, just as Prongs uttered a surprised "when did you get here?"

"Peter told me he stormed out of Charms," Moony said, answering the second question first.

Sirius glared. "Is everyone intent on ignoring me and interrupting me?"

"Don't you think you're being a little bit of a drama queen?" Peter asked unfeelingly.

"Nonsense. Men can't be drama queens," Prongs replied deprecatingly.

"Nice defense," Sirius muttered sarcastically, while Moony tried to placate Prongs with a "well he's being a drama king then."

"You are," Peter replied defensively to Prongs' glare. "I mean, how annoying can a girl be?" Prongs and Sirius just exchanged glances.

"_Very_ annoying," he finally said, surprised at the anger in his voice. "Every class is the same. She thinks she's so _great_, just because rest of the population of Hogwarts can't seem to keep their eyes off her."

"Ahh, I see," Moony said patronizingly, and Sirius maturely resisted the urge to punch him in the face. "You're jealous," he said simply, as if stating the obvious. "You're used to being the center of attention, and now that some girl is, for a change, you feel like she's usurped your rightful position."

"Yeah, yeah, that's exactly how I feel," Sirius said, his voice loaded with sarcasm. "I've never heard such idiocy."

Peter looked thoughtful. "Actually…"

"Oh, yeah, side with him, go on," Sirius shouted. "I'm just a huge prick who's jealous because he's not the center of attention."

&

"You know, Padfoot, we weren't ganging up against you."

It was late, and the common room fire crackled in the empty room. Sirius was surprisingly quiet, scribbling on a piece of parchment with a sorry-looking quill. "Yeah, I know," he grumbled. Prongs took this as an invitation to plop down in the armchair next to Sirius.

"C'mon, man, we're your friends. If you can't complain about girl trouble to us, who to?"

"Prongs, seriously, you know me." It was hard to say. Sirius was a staunchly loyal friend, and was especially close to Prongs. "You know I would run through fire for you, mate. I just don't enjoy discussing my _feelings_."

Prongs agreed. "It isn't particularly manly."

"You sure moan about Evans enough," Sirius grumbled, giving Prongs a sidelong glance.

"Hey!" Prongs caught the look. "Fool." He stood up, ruffling Sirius' hair (which he knew he hated.) "One day, the Ice King will fall in love. And then you shall be on your knees, groveling to the wise Prongs and begging for me to tell you all I know."

"If I ever fall in love, I shall do it with far more tact and precision than you have thus far exhibited in your campaign to woo the delicate heart of our lovely leading lady Lily Evans." Sirius replied absently, focusing once more on the parchment. "My crusade for the heart of a beloved damsel would be something that bards and minstrels would sing of in years to come…poems and serenades would be written in my honor…women and men alike would swoon…"

He was cut off by a sharp pillow blow to the head.

&

And so it was widely decided and naturally assumed that the fortified heart of one heart_breaker _was invincible.

But Marie Ginger had other designs. She had never really been one to go with the trends of the time.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I like this chapter!

**The Girl Not Spoken Of**

It had been widely assumed, long ago, by the population of Hogwarts that Sirius Black wasn't interested in school girls. The question of who he _was_ interested in had yet to be answered. Eventually, however, it became clear to those nearest and dearest to him that something was bothering him. Or (they believed) possibly, more correctly, some_one _was bothering him.

&

"Who is it?" They wanted to know.

Sirius was grumpy. "No one. Let me eat my bacon."

&

Moony decided to try the tactic of surprise. "Who do you fancy!?" He would demand at random point of the day.

"Your mother!" Sirius would snap, unfailingly.

&

Sirius was insufferably moody—even more than usual—and Marie was insufferably pleased with herself, and everyone was suffering immensely from being around them in lessons. They were driving each other and everyone around them absolutely stark raving mad.

&

Peter tried listing. "Is it Evans?"

"No."

"Oh, it is Evans, isn't it? I can tell, that's denial, right there."

"It isn't Evans."

"So you're admitting that it is _someone_, then?"

"No."

But Peter was unflinching. "Is it Alice?"

"No."

"It's definitely Alice. You hesitated before you said no. I can tell."

"It's not Alice."

"But you didn't say that it's not _anyone. _So if it's not no one, then you must fancy _someone_."

"No."

&

Marie flirted outrageously with every boy she could find while Sirius was in the vicinity, always watching him from beneath long lashes. She was constantly dropping subtle hints and trying to corner him, but he was too angry and oblivious to notice her obvious infatuation with him. He sulked, glared at her all the time, was driven insane by the attentions she lavished on other males, and couldn't seem to stop watching her.

&

Prongs just waited, and watched, and vaguely hoped that if Sirius did indeed fancy someone, he would eventually tell them. Because, of course, the boys were too clueless to pick up on anything obvious. They had to be _told_.

&

They bickered, sat next to each other in every class, talked about how much they hated the other in plain earshot, smiled, glared, laughed and constantly got the other in trouble.

"Can I borrow some ink?" Marie would ask, batting her eyelashes.

"Of course not," Sirius would say without looking up, meanwhile pushing it closer to her and filching some of her parchment to doodle on. She casually dipped her quill in his inkpot, and would leave a large splotch on his essay. He would respond by constantly pushing her elbow, causing her to mess up what she was writing.

&

"Who do you fancy!?"

"Your sister."

&

While Marie grumbled about the idiocies of men, he alternated from glaring at her, ruing the day she entered his life, and looking quite satisfied. She would scoot her chair close to him and touch his hair or shoulder in some way that made him feel uncomfortable, while observing that he had stolen her parchment.

&

"Is it Eliza?"

"No."

"It _is_ Eliza, it definitely is, I can feel it!"

"It's not Eliza."

"But it is _someone_ then, because you didn't say that you don't fancy anyone."

&

When he spilled his ink all over Marie's textbook she would flirt outrageously with David Melrose, who sat behind her. Sirius would resemble a thundercloud, and by the time the ridiculous play had finished, he would storm out of the classroom, only to repeat the act in their next class.

&

Prongs kept waiting. After a few days, Sirius began to look frazzled.

&

All Sirius and Marie could talk about was how much they loathed the other, from the way their eyes sparkled when they were angry to the way their laughter was deep, rich, and obviously detestable. When asked why they didn't simply ignore the other and stop tormenting themselves, their friends, and each other, they hemmed and hawed and never got anywhere close to the real reason.

&

"Who do you fancy!?"

"YOU!" Sirius shrieked, utterly enraged.

Moony looked taken aback. "Seriously? "

Sirius roared. "NO!"

&

"Is it Beatrice?"

"NO, IT IS NOT BEATRICE!"

Peter was unaffected. "I can tell—"

"FOR THE LAST TIME, I DO _NOT_ FANCY ANYONE!"

&

The days dragged on interminably, and then days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months. Months turned to years, and before they knew it they were seventh years, and Prongs was dating Evans like it had been coming at them all along.

It was sickening to Sirius, actually, to see his best friend so love-sick and besotted that he didn't even realize he was fraternizing with the…well…not the enemy. But…not the friend, either.

Sirius was softening every day. Cracks were beginning to hairline through his exterior. A girl was beginning to penetrate his armor.

She was clever. Damn clever. She knew what she wanted, and she'd stop at nothing to get it. She was determined. Bloody determined. She'd known how long it would take, but she still took it on. Marie was not going to be just another notch on Sirius' bedpost.

If Sirius wasn't careful, he was going to wake up one morning and find himself head-over-heels in love.

&

"I know who it is."

"Shut up Peter," Sirius grumbled, exhausted with the constant questioning. He pulled his pillow over his head. It was a Saturday morning, and much too early for this type of thing.

"S'not Peter."

"Moony, piss off. I know you know everything."

"It's Prongs." He had finally decided to make his move. It was odd. Prongs wasn't characterized as the most observant of their friends. But somehow, knowing Sirius' temperament, he had figured it out.

Sirius emitted an audible groan. "Prongs, go away. I want to sleep."

"It's Marie Ginger."

The pillows and quilt flew off the bed as Sirius sat up in record time. "_Who_?" Prongs simply laughed.

"Marie Ginger."

&

"But… I don't have a sister…?"

"Moony," Prongs said with a long-suffering sigh, strolling out from behind a suit of armor. "That's the _point._"


	3. Chapter 3

The Girl Not Spoken Of

000

Sirius smiled at the influx of old memories. They were so good in the beginning, to nice to peruse again, like trying on old clothes. He remembered fondly the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her hair on his shoulders, as he whispered sweet nothings to her in empty classrooms. He had no idea why she had chosen him, why he was so lucky to have been blessed by such an angel of life.

000

He followed her out of class one day. It had been a particularly frustrating day, full of heated, intense looks and heavy casualties on both sides. Naturally, they all followed him. Sometimes Padfoot could be so thick. Did he honestly think that they wouldn't notice how he took off after Marie in practically a dead run?

"Ginger!" He shouted after her, and then again, "Ginger!"

She kept walking, and he kept following, and the Marauders continued stalking a little ways behind. Marie and Sirius finally collided, just outside the castle doors.

"Ginger," he said again, still using her last name, grabbing her arm and turning her towards him. She whirled around, bristling, cheeks flushed and breath coming a little more quickly than it probably should have been from just a brisk walk.

"What?" She asked coolly, but even the boys could hear the slight hitch in her voice.

"Aw, damn it," Sirius growled, and then he had his hand around the back of her neck, and he was crushing her lips to his.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their long hair mixing in the winds as they kissed passionately. Close by, safely huddled beneath the invisibility cloak, the rest of the Marauders were not about to leave. They watched in fascination. While it might have taken Sirius a while to admit it, he certainly didn't lack the balls to get what he wanted.

000

They acted exactly the same way, bickering and frustrating each other in class, before disappearing in to empty classrooms and hidden alcoves for stolen kisses in between bells.

It was an intensely passionate relationship, full of emotional and physical ups and downs, complete with real fights, hard on both of them, and excess emotion, passion and love.

They were caught in a whirlwind romance, filled with nothing but each other. Sirius Black, the infamous bad-boy of Hogwarts, who had never been pinned down for more than a week, was caught in a net of his own making.

And then suddenly seventh year was drawing to a close, and Sirius was kissing the tears off of her face, promising that they would be together, stay together, for ever and always, sounding exactly as he'd never thought he would.

000

Sirius sighed, putting his head in his hands. Slowly, slowly, oh so slowly, he reached his hand in to the pocket of his robe. Deeper, he reached, until he felt it. Simply touching it was like a jolt of electricity, and gently, he pulled out the old, dog-eared photograph. It was thin with wear, the color fading from the edges. Funnily enough, it too was a muggle, black and white. He had never bothered to dip it in the potion of movement. It wouldn't have made any difference. Tenderly, he held it in between his hands, and then he looked down.

Her face shone through the worn paper at him, unchanged after all the years. It shot at him like a bullet, a physical pain, making him want to recoil. His haunted eyes stared back at her young, unlined, seventeen-year-old face. She still exuded the same glow she had every day of her life. She glowed like an angel, joyfully in the prime of her life.

She would be in her thirties now. Her rich mahogany hair would have the shine and highlights that seem to come with age, and her flowery scent would probably be more sophisticated, older. She would have crows' feet around her eyes, and smile lines around her mouth. She might have gained a little weight, finally rounding out her harsh edges. But she would still be beautiful. She would still be his.

000

Sirius had cried himself out. Marie had stayed up all night with him, cradling his head on her lap, stroking his soft hair, and murmuring those sweet nothings, which he had so often murmured to her. Her skirt was wet with his tears, his lips dry and cracked, his cheeks stiff with the salt.

Finally, when the sun came up, he was ready for revenge. He was hungry for bloodshed. He knew who had done it, and so did she. Her big eyes looked scared, and she was pale under her tan. His dark eyes were hooded, the blue half moons under his red rims making him look grim and scary. Catching their reflection in the glass door, he nodded. They looked exactly as they felt, about to deliver a justice long overdue.

Grimly, they set out. He had decided it was to be him. She had left her wand, just in case something happened. Both of her parents were dead, and she had no wizarding relatives, being a half-blood anyways.

The one person, other than Sirius, who could identify her as a witch had been killed last night, along with Sirius' best friend.

By another he had once considered a best friend.

In retrospect, he didn't know how it could have happened. How could he have let it happen? How could he have let her come along? His fingers grew white as he gripped the photo, rocking on his chair, scrunching his eyes closed against the painful onslaught of memories. He still blamed himself. She didn't even get a proper funeral.

He found out, years later, that she had been declared legally dead after being MIA for months.

It was largely assumed that she had gone insane when he was sent to Azkaban, and tried to follow. Their flat remained empty, untouched, gathering dust… Sirius felt a tear slide down his cheek, and her name rose up in his throat, a painful lump that he couldn't swallow away.

A Jane Doe body had been among those of the thirteen muggles who Pettigrew had killed that day, but the connection had never been made.

She was just one more thing that Pettigrew had destroyed.

When they found Peter Pettigrew, it was in the middle of a crowded street. Marie stood a little ways behind Sirius, ready to help if anything went wrong, while he advanced, wand held menacingly. He was going to make Peter suffer.

And then she was gone, in the terrible explosion. He didn't even have time to cry her name.

And Peter was gone too, gone rat, gone to his true personality.

He had taken everything. _Everything. _

Everything Sirius had ever loved was gone, wiped out, in that terrible day. And it was all, entirely, completely Peter's fault. James, Lily and then his Marie. His Marie. Marie Eleanor Ginger, with her middle name given to her by her muggle mother, after the wife of a famous American President. Marie…his beautiful, loving, smiling, kind, harsh, determined Marie. How could she be dead? How could a life force so vivacious ever be extinguished?

He had won, Peter had.

The fat boy, good at nothing, with a runny nose, had won the war.

And so Sirius had sat amidst the rubble, in the wreckage, and laughed until he cried at the terrible unfairness of life. And even through his tears he continued to laugh. He laughed until they came and carried him away to Azkaban. And even there he laughed, for they had imprisoned the wrong man, they had issued the wrong verdict of thirteen muggles killed, and they had let the wrong man escape. He laughed for a long time, until he forgot what was funny. And then he laughed some more, for he had forgotten how to cry. It was a harsh, barking sound. His throat was raw and his eyes would run.

000

Quietly at first, and then more loudly, in the empty kitchen of Grimmauld place, Sirius began to cry. His hands reflexively clutched at the photo, and he slowly made his way to the window. He opened it, and the scent of rain filled the room. He started, he hadn't realized it had started raining. He held the picture out, his fingers trembling. A worn edge, and then the bottom half of her face, and finally even her high forehead peaked out. The first droplets of rain hit the picture, the water causing the ink to run, distorting her glowing beauty.

But it was time. She would always be beautiful, she would always glow, and she would always be burned in to his memory. The rain steadily washed the picture, like tears, and in a way it was a cleansing for his soul. Marie would never come back, he realized. No amount of waiting could ever make her return.

He would be alone forever.

Finally, he released the picture with a sigh. It floated down, the color running in the rain. It was time to forgive and forget. Tears as thick as the rain flowed freely down Sirius' face, and sobs racked his body as he closed the window.

But he did not laugh.

000

Later that night, Sirius rushed to battle with other members of the Order of the Phoenix to aid Harry. It was still hard to look at Harry, who was so like James.

Marie's face was still fresh in his mind, as he automatically dueled Bellatrix. And then, suddenly, it didn't matter so much anymore. He could feel her, close to him, right beyond the veil. He threw back his head, and laughed. Suddenly he was seventeen again, running down the corridor to where her face was peeking out from behind the door of an empty classroom. He didn't hear her shout the terrible killing curse, nor his nephew's anguished scream. He was hardly aware of his body falling through the veil. He was finally with Marie again, and from his lungs issued a long sigh of relief.


End file.
